Merrier
by Oleander's One
Summary: Mahariel and Zevran deliver a surprise gift to an old friend in Kirkwall. A present for the wonderful Seika.


"Ah! The mighty Champion of Kirkwall, is it?" A golden-haired elf dropped lightly down to the floor of the cave from a hidden niche. He skirted the remains of the varterral and bowed elegantly to Hawke and the others, who were liberally painted with slime and panting with exertion from the hard-found battle.

"Variel told us we'd find you here, murderer," Hawke said in a hard voice. "You sound as if I were expected."

"Not you specifically, though I knew that Lanos would attempt to enlist aid; he tragically lost several men the last time he tried facing me directly."

"Nuncio Caldera Lanos, that tosser?" Isabela shook her head. "Oh, Hawke. Tell me that you didn't get taken in by that idiot."

"Of course not. I knew right away—"

Varric flipped a few pages in the journal he was writing in, and cleared his throat. _"This monster murdered my sweet young sister," the shifty-eyed Antivan growled, shiftily._

"Or rather, I disposed of the squad of Tal'Vashoth that he hired to kill my family." Zevran smiled humourlessly.

"_I shall not rest until this innocent young girl is avenged!" Hawke cried, his voice ringing with steely determination._

"_I don't know, Hawke; there's more to this story," the trusty dwarf cautioned sagely._

"Why am I always shouting or declaiming or denouncing? Just once I'd like to weigh in thoughtfully."

"I was thinking only yesterday that there was a vast, untapped market in the judicious hero genre. I'll call it 'The Good, the Bad, and the Prudent'."

"Never mind," Hawke said irritably. He turned back to the elf. "Who are you, then?"

"Forgive me, Champion. I am Zevran Arainai, of the Antivan Crows. We were in Cumberland for the funeral of an old friend, and _el galipollas_ picked up our trail."

"We?"

"_Mi amor_ is … elsewhere at the moment. She did mention that she hoped to make your acquaintance, one day."

"That sounded menacing for no clear reason."

"Speaking of menace, may I inquire as to your intentions towards me? I imagine it will involve shackles; gags; tight, binding ropes …"

"Don't fall for it, Hawke." Isabela rolled her eyes. "Filthy bugger tried the same thing on me after he offed my husband."

"He murdered your husband?" Hawke turned back to the Antivan and drew his belt knife.

"Ah. This is not going as well as was to be hoped, alas."

* * *

They found the Crows camped in a sheltered cove on the Wounded Coast, a small galley anchored off shore. Besides Lanos and his bodyguards, Hawke counted at least eight men watching him silently from the shadows, with more doubtlessly patrolling nearby. Fenris and Aveline pulled the battered, shackled Zevran along between them; Varric brought up the rear.

Lanos rose and circled the elf and his captors. "Ah, the untouchable Zevran, chained. But where is your _puta_? Your pet Warden-_bruja_ who brought the other masters to heel for you?" he sneered. "I heard she lost her mind; that you had to put her down like a mad dog."

Zevran groaned around the gag in his mouth, struggling weakly against the pair holding him.

Lanos smiled indulgently. "Didn't I tell you that sentiment would be your downfall, Arainai? You should have listened to your old friend." He turned to the others. "_Señor_ Hawke, you have succeeded where I had failed. I owe you a sincere apology."

"Because you underestimated me." Hawke nodded smugly.

"More because I'm about to kill you." Lanos signaled his assassins, and drew his weapons.

"Kill me? Because I did what you and all of your men could not?" Hawke lifted his sword; Zevran fell to his knees as his guardians released him to reach for their weapons.

"No, because I enjoy killing people, and hate loose ends. Nothing personal, yes?" Behind him, the Crow master's large, bearded bodyguard bellowed a challenge, which ended in a wet gurgle as he fell to the ground, a bolt buried in his neck.

"Nothing personal, no." Varric smirked.

Hawke brought his blade up, narrowly fending off Lanos's sword and dagger. The second bodyguard hurled himself at Fenris, while Aveline set herself to defend Varric and dodge arrows.

Falling back to evade Fenris's huge blade, the bodyguard stumbled on the now-empty shackles. Zevran grinned at him as he rose, twin stilettos slicing through the man's leather-clad legs, ripping upward. Miming a salute to Fenris, the blond elf disappeared into the shadows.

Finding themselves now under magical and arrow fire from the surrounding brush, half of the Antivans closed with Hawke's group while the rest retreated into the darkness.

Two of the Crows angling for Hawke were thrown back as the ground beneath them rippled and shook. A Dalish elf with short, curly red hair emerged from behind a large boulder; she raised her glowing hands, cackling wickedly. _"Fhaor!"_ One of the Crows was frozen in place, as the body of the second began to ripple and twist inside his armour. The leather was shredded as his arms thickened, lengthened, split into branches, the skin roughening into bark. His legs grew together to form a sturdy trunk, his screams silenced as the tree reached for the sky, bursting with black, feathery leaves.

"THAT WAS A THOROUGHLY UNSANCTIONED DISPLAY OF MAGIC, YOUNG LADY," she said in a stentorian tone. The young mage grimaced, shaking her head. "Stop it! Let me go! Back in your corner, you harpy." Seeming to fight herself, she raised her hands again, fingers curled into claws. She motioned at a pile of ropes, which flew to bind the other Crow's feet and hands, ends tied neatly into bows. With a parting growl and flip of her hand, freezing the Crow closing on Varric's flank, she turned and lurched back into the trees.

With the bodyguards and other Crows dead or incapacitated, Lanos was quickly overwhelmed. The sounds of combat and cries of pain from the darkness gave no indication of the results of the secondary battle, until Zevran, the stranger elf, and the others returned to the camp, battered but whole.

Zevran gazed down at the remains of the Crow master. "Tch. Losing your head in the heat of battle, _amigo_; very sloppy." He shook out a rag and began wiping at the blood and bruises on his face. "A fine job with the cosmetics, my dear Isabela."

"If we're all in moderately good health, some introductions might be in order?"

"Hawke, this is Rane Mahariel, formerly the Warden-Commander of Ferelden," Anders supplied. "She is—"

"VERY DISAPPOINTED IN YOU, ANDERS." The elf shuddered, a brief look of pain crossing her face. "Leliana told me that you were here in Kirkwall. Not that I can trust her judgment regarding most things, but she said that YOU HAVE BEEN ENGAGING IN LOW BEHAVIOUR UNBEFITTING A MAGE. Inciting conflict between the mages and Templars, rather. From what I've learned, you're planning more than that, so I PRAYED SO HARD FOR YOU …" Mahariel pressed her fingertips to her temples. "Nngh."

Anders laughed uncomfortably. "This from the same person that put itchweed in the Grand Cleric of Amaranthine's bed, and gave the statue of Archon Hessarian breasts? What's really going on, Rane?"

"I WAS A BAD PERSON WITH A BAD ATTITUDE. No, I wasn't! IT IS THE TRUTH. Don't nag me, you uptight, old—"

Varric looked up from his furious scribbling. "Is anyone else fighting the impulse to back away slowly?"

Mahariel looked up at Anders, the cords of her neck standing out and her hands tightly clenched at her side. "Anders, I need to speak with you in private. Warden business."

"I'm not sure I want to do that. Maybe … maybe you should have a nice lie-down for a bit."

"IF THAT'S HOW IT MUST BE." Mahariel's hands snapped forward, releasing a ball of crackling energy that sped towards the mage, lifting him off his feet and sending him flying backwards, skidding along the rocky ground. Before he could raise his head, she was on him. "A girl could get used to a punch like that." She tittered madly.

"Rane, we can work this out …" Anders tried to scramble out from under the cackling Dalish, but she had him by the feathers.

"I can't let you plunge Kirkwall into a mage war, Anders."

"NO!" Anders eyes bled to bright blue. "THIS ONE IS THE INSTRUMENT OF JUSTICE. WE WILL NOT ALLOW INTERFERENCE WITH OUR GOALS."

"DO NOT TALK BACK TO ME, YOUNG MAN. THIS IS FOR YOUR OWN GOOD." The Dalish mage's eyes bled to white; blinding light poured from her hands, obscuring them both.

When Hawke's vision returned, the small elf was being helped to her feet by Zevran, who enfolded her in his arms. Anders was on his hands and knees, shaking violently, an expression of horror on his face.

"He'll be all right in a day or two, Ser Hawke," Rane said in a tired voice. "Though you may want to keep him away from other people for a week or so."

"You didn't … separate Justice from Anders?" Hawke asked. "He told me that couldn't be done without killing both of them."

"_Mi amor_ simply gave _el uno justificada_ something else on which to focus its attention."

"I don't understand."

"Rane, what did you do? The voice … the _voices._" Anders whispered, his eyes open and staring at the tiny elf. "WE HAVE A GREAT DEAL TO DISCUSS, YOUNG MAN, AND … JUSTICE WILL NOT BE DENIED! THERE ARE NONE WHO WILL STAND IN THE WAY OF—" He broke off, rocking back and forth on his knees and keening piteously.

"Oh, that first one sounded a bit like Marethari, didn't it?" Merrill giggled. "That time that we got drunk on fermented bushfruit, and turned all of the halla green."

"ALL SHALL BURN IN THE FIRES OF JUSTICE FOR THIS OUTRAGE … You can't leave me like this, Rane … LET US DISCUSS YOUR ANGER; YOU ARE FEELING GUILT FROM SOMETHING IN YOUR PAST, NO DOUBT. THE FIRST STEP IS TO ADMIT THAT YOU WERE WRONG."

"Did you know that Anders was not, in fact, the only mage in recent memory to ally with a Fade spirit?" Mahariel watched the other mage's struggles, smiling calmly. Under her breath, she added, "Vengeance né Justice, meet Sanctimony née Faith. I'm sure you'll find a lot to talk about."

* * *

_Obviously, this must be considered AU for the events in 'Asunder'. Also; anyone who loves Mahariel and/or Tabris—correction, anyone who loves Dragon Age—should scamper over posthaste to check out Seika's (ID: xseikax) lovely stories. Many thanks to mille libri for the thoughtful beta and great ideas._


End file.
